Love is in the Air Special
by Zarabethe
Summary: Three couples, three holiday oneshots. Lorel thinks her holiday is completely ruined, until she finds a flower. Zarabethe gets coerced into doing some shopping. Mae returns to her and Kalibose's apartment to find a surprise. All three rated F for fluffy and N for naughty.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: This is a little late for Valentine's Day, but right on time for Love is in the Air. Three couples, three one-shots of their holiday. First up are Lorel and Tzun'do, which have sadly not gotten near enough love lately.**

* * *

High above Stranglethorne Vale, a lone stormcrow wove her way through the warm air currents. It might be full winter in the human lands, but here in the jungle, the air was perfect: warm with just a hint of chill, just enough to warrant pants or long sleeves. And unlike the impending spring, the humidity had evened out for the winter. The weather was beautiful, the season was her favorite, and Lorel's mood could not be more foul as she wheeled a tight circle and shifted form just as she landed outside the nearly-invisible clearing. She literally hit the ground stomping, and yanked a hand through her tangled white hair as she strode towards her house. She bypassed the front door entirely, and went directly down to the bathing pool behind the garden gate. She grumbled to herself as she pulled her boots off on the way.

"Stupid...fucking...hippogryphs." Lorel pulled her shirt off over her head in one violent motion, wincing as it caught her ears. She didn't even pause as she tossed it to the side of the path. Somehow, when she had agreed to help relocate the hippogryphs to their new pen, she had gotten the lot of mucking out the old pen. Which hadn't been cleaned in years, by the state of things. She was covered in old giant bird shit and sweat, and then right as she was about to leave, one of them had charged at her and knocked her right into the water trough. She didn't have to double check her clothes as she chucked them off: they were completely ruined, and most likely her boots as well. And she liked these boots, too.

She had stripped completely by the time she made it to the bathing pool, and without hesitation, dove in. The water was warm against her skin as she swam all the way to the other side, and then back to the dock. Her muscles were sore from all the hard work today, and while she might normally do a few more laps, she was just ready to be clean. She scrubbed herself thoroughly with soap, and then leaned back against the dock lazily as she washed her hair. She'd been in the bathing pool at least twenty minutes, and she was still alone. She cast her eyes about the sides of the garden and the house: everything was silent and still, at least as still as it could be in the jungle. She dunked her head under water and rinsed the scented soap out of her hair. She flung her wet hair back out of her face and again peered around the pool.

"Zane?" she called, half-expecting him to jump out of the bushes and cannonball into the pool. She turned a slow circle, pulling herself up onto the dock. There were a stack of towels sitting on the dock, and she scrubbed one through her hair thoughtfully. Oh, that's right. Zane was staying over with Araleigh tonight. Lorel's mood, which was already foul, turned south. It was the Love Festival tonight, and Araleigh had insisted on taking her son for the weekend so her and Tzun'do could celebrate properly with no interruptions. Except apparently her cycles hated her, and she would have to avoid sleeping with her husband this weekend entirely or double up on her preventative herbs. Lorel scowled as she threw the wet towel down onto the dock and stomped up to the house without a stitch on. It was the Love Festival, she had the night off, and they were kid-free for the weekend, and she couldn't even get laid. Stupid fucking fertility.

She slammed the back door open with more force than was necessary, and headed right into the kitchen. She was irrationally angry with her body. She assumed it was some kind of karma: she had spent so many years sleeping around from person to person, and because of it, she was now blessed with hyperactive cycles. She could get pregnant every single year if she so desired. But she did _not_. Her sisters-in-law might be happy to be housewives, or have a houseful of kids, but she liked her autonomy. She liked her freedom. And Zane, well...Zane was like his father. And his mother. And both of them together ran her ragged nearly every day.

Thinking about Zarabethe and Mae deflated her temper slightly as she poked around the kitchen and found a lone pomegranate sitting in the fruit bowl. It wasn't their fault she was fertile and they were not. Wishing it was switched was kind of shitty of her. Lorel ripped the pomegranate in half and dug out the juicy seeds as she thought. She had to take the preventative herbs a few hours early for them to even work, but no one else was home yet. She hated them: they gave her a headache and she felt even more irritable. But she could suck it up for one night. She filled a cup up with water and then opened up the herb cabinet. They weren't in front where she usually left them. Grumbling, she set the pomegranate down and hoisted herself up onto the counter. Even thought the cabinets were sized for humans, they were still almost too tall for her to see properly. She dug through the cabinet, and then in irritation took everything out of it completely. Where the hell was it?

Not even bothering to clean up her mess, she hopped down off the counter, her bare feet slapping the bamboo mat. It might be in the bedroom. More likely she was out though, and that meant her weekend was decidedly ruined. She picked up the pomegranate and continued picking at it as she stomped past the kitchen table. She paused, backed up, and did a double-take. There was a bright orange tiger lily laying on the table. She had missed it entirely on her way in. She picked it up, inhaled its scent, and grinned. It could only be from Tzun—tiger lilies were their running gag now. She took it with her as she started to the stairs up to the loft, and stopped again. Sitting on the bottom step was another one. She picked it up and added it to the first, and looked around the bottom floor of their house. There was no sign of anyone being here: everything was in its place, and there were no more errant flowers. Zane's toys were even picked up off the floor. She drew her eyebrows together as she slowly started up the steps. Everything looked a little too clean, actually. She thought her husband had had paperwork in town to do today: now she wondered what exactly he had been up to.

Halfway up the steps, there was another flower. This time, however, it was a long-stemmed mass of oblong petals called a bird of paradise. Lorel giggled as she picked it up. Tiger lilies and birds of paradise. It was almost too romantic, like Tzun had taken advice from a romance column. Still, it worked: she was a mass of giggles as she picked up another bird of paradise from the top steps. The previous one was orange, and this one red.

The top floor of their house was bedrooms: two small ones to the left, and their larger one to the right. She turned to the right, and outside the door to their bedroom was an arrangement that made her gasp. An extravagant bouquet of dark purple orchids was arranged, with a few tiger lilies and birds of paradise stuck in to accent it. The entire upper level was awash in its perfume. Lorel crouched beside the flowers, breathing in their heady scent, and abruptly caught the scent of something else, something right behind the door. She carefully toed around the flower arrangement and pushed the curtain back from their bedroom.

"Tzun, you lying bastard, I know you are in there-" And stopped because there was Tzun, no doubt about it. There could definitely be none other than her half-troll husband sprawled lasciviously across their bed, from the dark blue-lavender of his skin to his mane of bright red hair. But what made her sink against the door in a peel of delighted laughter was the fact that he wore absolutely nothing.

Except a bright red ribbon tied in a jaunty bow around his masculinity.

Tzun gave her a wink as he nodded her way. "I see ya already dressed for da occasion."

For a moment she leaned against the door frame, holding her sides and laughing uncontrollably. When she could speak again, she waved a hand vaguely at both him and the flowers.

"Who told you to do all this?"

Tzun shifted on the bed so that he was sitting up. "Jeth mighta given me da idea. Do ya hate it?"

His expression had wilted so much she set the flowers she was holding onto the dresser and quickly strode across the room to him. "No, no, I adore it." With him seated on their floor mattress, she had to bend down to kiss him, which was a nice difference. He brought his hands up to slide around her waist, and reality hit her all at once. She yanked back abruptly.

"Fuck! My herbs! We can't do anything right now, I can't find them."

Her husband reached up and smoothed one large finger over her cheek, and his other hand slid down to cup her ass as he pulled her back to him. His eyes didn't quite meet hers as he spoke.

"I thought mebbe we could forget about dat right now."

Lorel groaned aloud in half pleasure, half exasperation as he nuzzled her belly, raking his tusks across the delicate skin there.

"You know we can't forget it, Tzun, if you even look at me funny this weekend, I'll get pregnant."

She froze, suddenly feeling very immune to her husband's touch.

"That's what you want, isn't it?"

His voice was muffled against her skin. "I don't see why ya hate it so much. Ya be da most beautiful pregnant woman in Azeroth."

"Wait a minute." She pushed her husband's head away from her so she could think clearly. He met her eyes finally, and she could read the frustration there, although she could tell it had little to do with her reluctance to go to bed with him. She climbed onto the bed with him and sat on her haunches beside him. She made a sweeping gesture from her shoulders to her feet.

"Let's get one thing straight: my body, my choice."

"I know dat, pet." Tzun looked so uncomfortable she felt a twinge of guilt. He stretched out beside her on the mattress and turned away from her so that he faced the wall.

"Jus' forget 'bout it. We don't hafta do anything."

Lorel was not having that. She climbed bodily over her husband, sitting herself so that she straddled his massive chest. Even though he kept his arms crossed, his eyes raked over her naked form.

"Ya not helping the situation, pet."

Lorel crossed her arms to match and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you being this way?"

His stubborn expression was the same one she saw on her son's face more often that she liked.

"I'm tired a' dis. You takin' the herbs that make ya feel bad, havin' ta step around ya cycles all da time...can't we jus' let it be for once? Can't we just enjoy each other wit'out schedulin' it in?"

Lorel threw her hands up in exasperation. "Just so you know, without the schedules and the herbs and all that, we'd have six kids by now. How much sex do you think you'd get with six kids, huh? Not a fucking lot."

"You didn't take da herbs for a year before we got Zane. I be thinkin' ya are over reactin'."

"And I don't think you properly appreciate how difficult it is to be pregnant, especially with your massive progeny."

Lorel could feel herself getting too worked up. The sexual tension in the room was enough, and now they were both angry. Her cheeks were flushed and she could tell that Tzun'do was not unaffected. At this rate, it wouldn't matter what herbs she took or not: this would end up in a wrestling match, and not a platonic one. As if Tzun could read her thoughts, he switched topics and uncrossed his arms, cupping his hands lightly around her ankles.

"All dis worryin' be stressin' ya out. I want ya ta have fun, not countin' days and hours and brewin' tea."

His words must have distracted her more than she thought, because all of a sudden his grasp on her ankles tightened and he sat up abruptly, flipping her onto her backside in his lap. She glared at him upside down as he leaned down and buried his nose into the crook between her shoulder and neck, right where he often told her that her scent was the strongest.

"Besides," his voice was barely audible and sent shivers down her spine. "Ya have no idea how good ya smell right now."

"Hormones." Lorel croaked out, her voice rough in the back of her throat as she tried to remember why, exactly, she had been resisting in the first place. "Your rut is not my problem."

"'Course not," he murmured and then he nipped the skin right at her throat. Lorel let out a surprised gasp, arching her neck against his teeth. He pulled back from her, his face as mischievous as ever. He scooped her up in his big hands only to set her down soundly on the mattress before standing up. "Guess I'll find another way ta deal wit' it."

He barely made it a full turn around before Lorel made a flying leap and landed on his back, digging her nails into his skin.

"Don't you dare," she hissed into his ear. She could feel his chuckle deep in his chest as she wrapped her legs around his neck. "You went to all this trouble for a Love Festival present: I'm at least going to unwrap it."

* * *

It was well into the next morning when she identified the random crinkling sound under their mattress and pulled out the bag of herbs. She lobbed them weakly onto her husband's face: that was all she had the energy for after the night they had just had.

"You hid them, didn't you."

Tzun had jumped awake as the bag hit his face and his eyes registered guilt as he carefully set them beside the bed.

"I was plannin' on givin' them back, if ya insisted."

He rolled over lazily and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into her neck. His breath was warm and soothing and nearly lulled her to sleep again as she listened to him breathe. He pulled her close, and gently kissed one of the bite marks on her shoulder.

"Ya really do smell good tho."

"And you are a slave to your dick." Her voice held no venom at all as she snuggled closer to her husband, admiring a few bite marks on his own torso. He petted her head for a moment, and was so quiet and she lifted her head to see if he was even awake anymore. His golden eyes burned into hers as he smoothed one finger along the length of her ear.

"Look, pet, I don't want ta make ya do anything ya don't want. I'm sorry for trying to take ya choice away."

Lorel silenced him by grabbing the bag of herbs off the floor and throwing them unceremoniously out the bedroom door.

"Shut up and kiss me, Tiger Lily."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: The timeline for these is the February after the last Winter's Veil Special.**

* * *

 _Humans,_ Zarabethe thought to herself as she navigated the crowded streets of Stormwind, _had too many holidays._ Kaldor'ei had only a few holidays, and most of them were steeped in thousands of years of tradition. There was Lunar Festival of course, then there was Midsummer, and a few more smaller religious holidays. But the humans, for as short living as they were, celebrated _everything._ There was a holiday for every season. There was a holiday to celebrate drinking and debauchery (largely influenced by the dwarves). There was of course Winter Veil, which they had adopted in their own house as a way of adapting to the culture they now lived in. But none of them were as loud, or as annoying, or downright _inappropriate_ as the Love Festival.

To illustrate her point, Zarabethe nearly ran into a vendor cart selling balloons of all colors in the shape of both male and female genitalia. She gave the decorations a disdainful glare as she continued on her way, sliding in between a warlock dressed in scarlet robes and his scantily clad demon companion.

There were parts of Stormwind that were always inappropriate, of course. The back alleys of Old Town, where more than one brothel hid. An assuming towering store front in the mage quarter that hid a warlock night club. But during Love Festival, every single merchant seemed to throw modesty to the wind and everywhere you looked, some sort of romantic or sexual item was being advertised with bright lights and vivid signs. In fact, when the girls were younger, she didn't bring them into the human capital at all until the festival had passed.

What a rotten time to run out of ink.

Love Festival was in full swing, and so it took twice as long to navigate to the canals than usual. When she finally slipped through the archway and tucked herself around a corner into a relatively quiet space, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her touch aversion might be all but non-existent in the safety of her home, but it still tended to flare up in crowds.

Zarabethe poked her head around the corner of the archway. Across the canals, right next to the entrance to the mage quarter, she could just spy the corner of the scribe's shop she frequented for her ink. In between though, was a landmine of vendors, crowds, street performers, and sales tables extended out from their shop front. And of course, all the _people._

"Zarabethe!"

She was ashamed to admit she startled terribly as a relatively tall gnome stumbled into her hiding place.

"What are you doing skulking about in the shadows like that? I nearly didn't see you!"

Zarabethe managed a weak, thin-lipped smile and took a tiny step out of the alcove.

"Hi, Abigail."

Abigail Twinklefeather was one of the assistant librarians in Stormwind Keep Library. With platinum blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes, she was somewhat of an anomaly among her kind. She was very tall, more like a dwarf than a gnome, and had more of an eye for books and cataloging than any kind of engineering. She was impossibly chipper, and for some reason seemed to have adopted Zarabethe as her charity friend. Abigail twirled a pale curl with one finger and swung her wicker shopping basket with the other hand. She wore a light pink pinafore over a white puffy-sleeved underdress dotted with tiny red hearts. She looked fresh-faced and a perfect representative of the innocent side of the holiday being celebrated all around them. Zarabethe was all of a sudden aware of how unkempt her appearance was. She hadn't done anything to her hair except pile it into a messy bun that was half-falling down. She at least had proper boots on, but her shirt and pants were old and worn, and the last of her depleted inkpot was staining one sleeve. She pulled her cloak around her self-consciously as Abigail peered around the corner of the alcove.

"So, whatcha doing today?"

Zarabethe tucked strands of loose hair behind her ears and tried to appear friendly.

"Shopping, unfortunately."

Abigail's entire body language perked up. "Oh! Me too! Let's go together, it's so embarrassing to go shopping for this holiday alone."

To her horror, the gnome grabbed her hand and drug her out into the busy street. Instantly Zarabethe was awash in so much noise and confusion that she felt nauseous. She was forced to cling to the gnome or be washed away in the crowd down to the canal. As they went, Abigail chattered loudly to be heard over the crowd.

"I want to get something to surprise Neville with, but I have no idea what. What store were you thinking of going into?"

Zarabethe glanced around the crowded street wildly, and then spotted a store front that looked a little less packed than the others. She pointed to that one, raising her voice so Abigail heard her.

"That one. It looks interesting."

They dodged clumps of people and Zarabethe got a glimpse of a red velvet awning swathed over a dark entrance before they pushed the door open and stepped inside. Abigail released her hand and Zarabethe wiped it against her pant leg.

"Ooooh, good choice. I wouldn't have expected this store from you."

Zarabethe shot Abigail a look and then glanced around the shelves, getting a proper look at it.

It was a lingerie store.

Zarabethe turned in a slow circle, feeling a dawning horror in her gut. She was completely packed in by acres of sheer gauze, lace, straps, buckles, and whole lot of _nothing_ in between. Zarabethe turned to head right back outside, crowds be damned, but there were two draenei women standing in the doorway, looking almost as shell shocked as she felt, and so she sidled carefully over to stand next to Abigail, trying to avoid a particularly offensive item covered in light pink ruffles and nothing else. She leaned over to speak to the gnome, who was digging through a smaller rack of sleepwear that appeared to be geared more to the shorter races.

"Do people actually wear these things?" she whispered too loudly, cringing as she imagined her voice ringing loudly over the store. "I thought it was just all a big joke."

Abigail's voice was muffled as she replied, her entire upper body inside the rack of indecent clothes.

"Of course they do, silly! Don't you ever feel the urge to spice up your love life?"

She emerged triumphant, with arms full of red and pink gauze. Zarabethe tried to not look disgusted at the clothes in her hands.

"Not in this way, no."

"Can I help you ladies?"

For the second time that morning, Zarabethe startled horribly. She had been half-bent over, so the human had spoken nearly in her ear, and it took an immense act of self-control to not vault over Abigail and into the nearest clothing rack. Fortunately, Abigail spoke for both of them.

"Oh no, I think I've about found what I'm looking for." Zarabethe started to relax, and took a tiny step backward, seeing that the path was clear now. The gnome, to her confusion, turned and pointed right at her.

"My friend though, she needs some help. She's never bought anything like this before."

Zarabethe could only stare at Abigail, shocked, as the human girl gave her a wide smile and stepped in between the two of them. She wore a simple black button down shirt and black pants, and to Zarabethe's immense relief, didn't seem to be advertising any of the shop's wares. Her nametag said _Olivia_ in Common.

"First time, huh? Well I specialize in first time customers. Let's move over here to the extra tall section." Helplessly, Zarabethe followed Olivia to the other side of the store while Abigail waved at her encouragingly.

"Now, what kind of things are you interested in? Are you celebrating with your boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse...?"

"Husband," she blurted out. Inwardly, she berated herself. This was a clothing store. She would not be defeated by a clothing store. She took a deep, steadying breath, and hoped the sales person did not see it.

"And is he..."

Zarabethe looked at her blankly.

"Is he a night elf, a draenei..." Olivia prodded patiently.

"Oh! A night elf."

Olivia immediately started looking through racks of clothes and Zarabethe started to wish that Deathwing would rise from the dead and obliterate the entire store off the map, with her in it. She took another helpless glance at the doorway. Olivia started chatting as she made a pile of garments on a cart.

"Tell me what kind of person your husband is. Would he like something fun and flirty, or would he like something a little rougher? Maybe something innocent looking?"

Forget this, she was definitely going to be defeated by a clothing store. Slowly, she took a step backward, then another.

"...I have no idea, really."

"Something like this?" Olivia turned and caught her just as she took another step backward. The outfit she held up looked very similar to something an incubus would wear inside of The Blue Recluse, red leather bustier with matching garter belt. Zarabethe shook her head adamantly.

"No, I don't think so." Suddenly, she hit upon an idea. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he prefers undergarments to remain...under clothes." _Where they belong_ , she continued in her head.

Olivia nodded sagely. "So something hidden then. I have just the thing."

She moved to a barrel that appeared to be filled with nothing but underwear, although underwear in this case seemed too base of a word. They were all silk and lace, brassy red and sultry rose, and although they were less risque than most of the items in the store, Zarabethe still felt overwhelmed. Undergarments were not meant to be exciting. They served a purpose and that's all they were for, and either way, they ended up on the floor of the bedroom no matter what their color. Olivia looked up at her expectantly as she dug through the barrel.

"Well, dive in then. What's your size?"

Zarabethe had no intention of diving in. Seeing that Abigail had already finished her purchase and was waiting for her, she plucked the first thing she saw that looked anywhere close to her size and practically threw it at the saleswoman. "Actually I think I'd like this. Just this. I'm kind of in a hurry."

Somehow after paying much more money than she had ever paid for such a tiny slip of cloth, she made it out the door of the lingerie shop. It was at least packed discreetly in a brown paper sack. She waved to Abigail, and ran to the scribe shop across the street with her eyes glued to the ground and her cloak pulled around her. She purchased enough ink to last her at least three weeks, and headed home as fast as her feet would take her.

She felt another brief moment of anxiety as she unlocked the door to their house deep in Elwynn Forest, but Elforen was nowhere to be found. She shut the door, leaned against it, and sighed in relief. She held up her packages, and with a snort of disgust, took the nondescript paper bag into the bedroom, where she tossed it onto her bed. She would figure out a way to dispose of it later. Unwrapping her package of ink, she returned to the kitchen table, which was still filled with pages of translations.

Hours later and several pages of carefully written Draconic later, Zarabethe heard the sound of the shop cart being pulled around the house. She rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair out of her face, and realized it was already dusk. She retrieved two candles from the cabinet, and lighting them carefully, continued working. Presently she heard her husband come in through the back door and called out to him.

"Hey, just in here working."

"Still?" Elforen peeled off his pack and cloak as he entered the kitchen. He'd obviously been smithing in the shop in Goldshire today: his forearms and around his face were dark with soot, and his shirt had streaks of it on the sleeves. He scratched a hand through his long white hair, and somehow, managed to keep it from getting streaked with black.

"I'm almost done. I had to go get more ink."

He kissed her on the cheek as he walked past, all scruff and the smell of fire and metal, and she made an indignant noise as she turned her head.

"Stop, these pages are still wet."

"Spurned for books again." He chuckled good-naturedly as he passed the kitchen table and headed to their bedroom. "I'm going to clean up then, since you're still working."

She made a non-committal noise and returned to her scrolls. The house settled into quiet, and it was several minutes later that Zarabethe realized that Elf had not made his way to the bathing room and lifted her head. There he was, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom with a curious smirk on his face. In his hands he held a slip of white satiny fabric.

"So," he started, his voice full of the kind of mischief she usually loved, "am I expected to wear these, or are you?"

 _Oh sh-_

Zarabethe stood up so fast she upended the ink well and had to catch it before it ruined her entire project.

"I can explain!" she squawked, the blood rushing to her face so fast she felt faint. She tossed her pen to the table and rushed at him. He saw the intention in her eyes and held the garment behind his back.

"Oh no you don't, I want the explanation first."

She tried to grab the underwear, but unfortunately, she and Elforen played that game far too often. He chuckled as he dodged this way and that, and finally she stopped, her hands on her hips.

"Give it back! It was an accident!"

"So you accidentally bought a pair of white silk panties and left them on the bed?"

Her face was so flushed she could feel the heat off of her cheeks as she made another failed attempt to grab the contraband item.

"It's not-what happened was-that's not what they are called!"

He was laughing so hard she finally got an opening—she shoved into him with one shoulder and pinned his arm against the door, and grabbed them away. She ran back into the bedroom, searching desperately for the brown paper sack, and finally shoved the underwear under her pillow.

Her husband, that infuriating man that he was, was still standing in the doorway, laughing so hard he was bent over double. Zarabethe stood with her arms crossed, trying desperately to at least gain back enough control to explain without her voice squawking.

"I went into town to get ink. Somehow I got finagled into going into a lingerie store with Abigail and the only way out was to buy something. I was going to throw them away or something, there's no way I was going to wear them."

Elforen had gotten hold of his laughter while she spoke, and the look on his face was not helping her consternation. "Stop that! I wouldn't be caught dead in something like that. I will just throw them out right now."

She reached under the pillow and grabbed the underwear, and with as much dignity as she could muster, strode out of the room. Elforen moved in front of the doorway with his hands up before she could get past him.

"Wait just a minute. So you aren't going to at least try them on?"

Zarabethe gave him a hard glare. "No. Why would I do that, when you are already laughing at me?"

He held a hand out, and she managed to not flinch as he rested it on her shoulder. "I was laughing at how embarrassed you were, not at the idea."

Zarabethe glanced down at the underwear in her hand, then back up at her husband. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

"What could it hurt?"

She pondered the idea for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. Elforen moved his hand and looked as if he were going to turn away, when she made her decision.

"Why don't you go clean up, and um, I guess I'll at least see if they fit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: Somehow, Kalibose and Mae stories always turn out to be tear jerkers, no matter what.**

* * *

Mae knew she had been distracted lately, but she was pretty sure her apartment had not been on fire when she left earlier that day. Probably at least 92% sure. But at least one neighbour stuck their head out in concern as she made her way up the stairs, following the acrid smell of burned materials. Most people would have gone dashing for the Stormwind Fire Brigade by this point, but then, most people were not married to a mage. And as unpredictable and cantankerous as her gift often was, she would imagine a horrible house fire to be a pretty significant life event, and assumed she would get some sort of warning. As it was, when Kalibose had shooed her out the door that morning with milk-drunk Amaryssa in his arms and an exaggerated innocent look on his face, Mae would have to be blind to not realize he was up to something.

Although setting the apartment on fire might not have been on his plan.

She hurried a little faster. Although she trusted Kalibose with her life, and with the life of their daughter, smoke inhalation was no joke, and she wanted to make sure all the windows were open and Amaryssa was nowhere near the fire. She burst into the apartment a little more forcefully than she meant to, banging the door against the opposite wall. There was definitely an ashen tint to the air in the apartment, but it didn't appear to still be aflame.

"Kalibose?" she called uncertainly as she began to search the interior.

"I would like to let it be made known that this was not my intention."

She followed the sound of his wry voice into the kitchen. This had definitely been the source of the fire: the smoke was heaviest in here, although it was quickly thinning out through the open door onto the balcony. Amaryssa was tucked into her basket on the floor near the table, away from the smoke. Kalibose had his back to her as he tried to mop the soot stains off the floor.

"I also," his voice was muffled as he scrubbed a spot vigorously, "would like to say that at no time was any magic of the pyrotechnic kind involved." Giving up on the floor, he turned around.

Mae quickly bit down on her bottom lip and put her hand over her mouth. Whatever had happened, magic involved or not, Kalibose had obviously been in the epicenter of it. His face and clothes were covered in black soot, his eyebrows looked a little singed, and was that her apron that he was wearing?

His morose expression was the only thing keeping her from bursting into hysterical laughter.

"I tried to bake you a cake."

It took a magnanimous effort to swallow down her giggles. Once she did, she walked over to him, took the mop out of his hands, and picked up a washcloth. Wetting it in the sink, she carefully cleaned off a portion of his face so she could kiss him on the cheek. He stood there and took her administrations, looking as if someone had kicked his puppy.

"I appreciate the thought. What happened to it?"

He gestured over his shoulder. "It's sitting on top of the stove. It's pretty charred, along with the inside of the oven."

He seemed to slump where he was standing. "I guess I will add that to the number of things around here that need to be replaced."

Mae set the washcloth down on top of the stove next to an unrecognizable black lump.

"How long has Amaryssa been sleeping?"

"Not that long. I had just put her down when I opened up the oven and saw the cake on fire."

With a little effort, Mae caught Kalibose's eye. He had ash in his long eyelashes and she carefully dusted it off. "Well then, I will put her in our room, away from this mess, and how about you get in the shower and clean up?"

He nodded listlessly, and started to move past her, until she caught him by the sleeve. "And maybe, if you need help washing, I will join you."

He froze, catching her eyes curiously, not quite believing what she just said. Then his cheeks turned red even under the soot darkening them, and he nodded to her as he hurried to the bathing room.

Mae giggled to herself as she watched him, then carefully picked up Amaryssa, basket and all.

"Now you stay asleep for awhile, let us have some alone time for once."

She sat her sleeping basket on top of the bed, made sure the curtain was drawn, and giggling quietly, snuck into the bathing room.

* * *

It took several hours of scrubbing, but the kitchen was finally back to its usual spotless cheery haven. Mae sank down into a chair and sighed in relief as she took a sip of tea. Kalibose had managed to get the fire out quickly and the stove wasn't damaged, just scorched. Which she was very thankful for: appliances were expensive, and she didn't know how long she could last without her daily tea. Kalibose held Amaryssa in his lap, and made faces at her so she would smile at him.

"I'm sorry for ruining your apron."

"Don't worry about it. Seeing you wearing it was worth it."

He shot her a look across the table, then held up their daughter. "Don't listen to your mother, 'Ryssa, she is a terrible person, that mocks her mate relentlessly."

Amaryssa giggled at being held up in the air, and Mae leaned across the table to engage her attention. "And your daddy is a terrible cook."

"Well that goes without saying."

He returned Amaryssa to his lap, and Mae took another sip of tea and stretched, trying to think of what they could have for supper that did not require cooking.

"Why were you baking a cake, anyway?"

"Oh, um," Kalibose stuttered, and Mae glanced over at him. He was staring down at their daughter, purposely not looking at her as he spoke. "Well, it's Love Festival, and I couldn't really afford to get you a present, so I was going to bake you a cake. Which I will not be attempting again."

Mae set her cup down and got up, feeling terrible all of a sudden for teasing him. She squatted in front of him and took both his hands in hers.

"You don't have to get me anything to prove you love me. You show me every day."

"By setting the kitchen on fire?" He was only half-joking, and he pulled her up so he could wrap one arm around her waist and bury his face into her stomach.

"You have given everything to me." His whisper was barely discernible around the fabric of her shirt. "I just want to give some of it back."

Amaryssa made a noise of protest at being ignored, and tried to stuff an entire fist into her mouth. Mae picked her up out of Kalibose's lap and settled her against her shoulder, then gently ran her fingers through her mate's blue hair. The house settled into quiet with the advent of dusk, and the baby squirmed again against her shoulder. Mae reached down and took Kalibose's hand, and he raised his eyes to look at her.

"Come on. I have to feed her, and I want to tell you all about how much you mean to me."

"That should only take you a few seconds." Kalibose let himself be pulled up from the chair and with her through the tiny sitting area into their bedroom. "Kalibose, I need you to bring home the bacon. Kalibose, I need you to change the diapers. Kalibose, I need you to be the damsel in distress so I have someone to save."

"Kalibose," Mae started as she sat down on the bed and pulled him down beside her. "Will you just shut up for once and let me compliment you?"

He did then, to her surprise. Mae scooted back until she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, settled Amaryssa eating, and then patted the bed beside her. Kalibose laid down beside her, up on his side, so that he could keep an eye on the two of them and she could run her hand through his hair.

"Kalibose," she started, quiet and serious, "I need you because you are my rock, because you are amazing, and because you are everything to me. You never give yourself any credit, but I'm telling you what none of this happiness that I have would be possible without you."

She couldn't help but smile when she saw the tears trickling down from his eyes, but her own were not far behind. She wiped at her wet face before she continued, her voice quiet as a prayer. "You don't ever have to prove your love to me. You being here is enough."

He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible, but tears still slid down his face. She gently brushed them away with her thumb. His words came out as a choked whisper.

"Why do you always have to make me cry?"

Mae giggled. "Because I can."

He sat up, and wrapped his arms around both her and Amaryssa, tight enough that it felt like he would never let go. His face was pressed against her hair, and so she barely heard what he said next.

"I love you. Stay with me forever?"

She nodded slightly, and he hugged her tighter.

"I promise."

* * *

 **This was fun. I smell a tradition coming on.**


End file.
